


Some Days

by sepherina



Category: Naruto
Genre: Feelings, M/M, Slice of Life, Uchiha Sasuke-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepherina/pseuds/sepherina
Summary: Some days are okay. Other days aren't so okay. But most days Naruto is there and maybe that's enough.





	Some Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all  
> First Naruto fic ever yay!! Kind of just Sasuke angst (feel like I'm late to the party on that one). I apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors, let me know and I'll fix them. Please comment and let me know what you think :)

Some days are okay. Some days Sasuke wakes up to the sun filtering through the blinds and pooling on the white sheets in patches of warmth and he vaults out of bed muttering curses and profanities because more often than not he’s late for training. When he gets to their meeting place on the bridge its usually just Naruto and Sakura waiting, discussing some strange concept Sakura read in one of her books, or this new technique Naruto had been recently working on. And when the two spot him its usually a ten minute tirade of, ‘Sasuke you’re late again!’ (Sakura), ‘It’s been an hour already bastard, can’t you just get up earlier?’ (Naruto) and ‘You and Kakashi-sensei are both the same, why do we put up with you’ (Sakura again). And when Kakashi does show up, another two hours later, he sweeps his silver-grey eye over Sasuke and orders, ’Fifty laps around the village after training’, before turning to make some feeble excuse to Naruto and Sakura as they launch into another rant. Sasuke scowls as he follows his team toward their training ground, Kakashi smiling indulgently at Naruto and Sakura on either side of him as they both talk in enthusiastic succession, earlier rant forgotten, but he thinks this is okay. He likes it like this. Team seven, Kakashi, Naruto and Sakura. 

He gets his ass kicked in training, with Naruto’s crazy jutsus and Sakura’s monstrous strength, with Kakashi lounging under the shade of a nearby tree, one eye crinkling as he watches over his book. But that’s only because Naruto and Sakura gang up him, he swears. And definitely not because sometimes he watches Naruto a little too closely and misses Sakura’s incoming fist (it’s happened twice now and he had ended up in hospital out cold for a good few days both times). After training, which usually ends with Sasuke on his back, bruised and groaning, knocked over by one of Naruto’s rasengan techniques or Sakura’s chakra-fists, Naruto always drags Sasuke back to his apartment to patch him up, despite Sasuke’s best protests. Sasuke knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, not after what he’s done, but still his heart skips a beat every time when Naruto takes his hand in his own and pulls him in the direction of the apartment. 

Naruto was always good at patching people up, the way Sasuke remembers before he left for Orochimaru. Like the way he picked up the broken pieces of their friendship and patched that up when Sasuke returned two years later with Orochimaru’s head. Sasuke doesn’t flinch as the alcohol stings at the grazed skin, and instead watches Naruto, with his messy sun-bright hair and clear blue eyes that narrow in concentration as he cleans off the blood. Watches his slender fingers as they flit gently around the wound and breathes in his musky earthy scent. Sometimes he gets a little carried away and doesn’t notice Naruto has noticed until the blond mutters at him, ‘Don’t stare its creepy you bastard’, and Sasuke always flushes and turns away because dammit he was shinobi and shinobi did not get caught out like that. But it’s never awkward because not many things are awkward with Naruto and the blond just starts talking and Sasuke hm’s and hums at the right moments without really listening. 

Afterwards Naruto forces Sasuke to stay and orders takeout (it’s usually ramen because Naruto doesn’t actually realise other food exists), griping about the insane workload and long hours Tsunade makes him work in his training for Hokage. But it obviously pays well, as Sasuke can see, in Naruto’s large, airy apartment with glass walls and pristine white benchtops and stylish furniture. Naruto has really come a long way from when Sasuke first knew him as a genin, now as candidate for next Hokage and well-earned respect from the entire village. Sasuke has to stop the dark chuckle from bubbling from his throat as it occurs to him that his and Naruto’s roles have been reversed; he, once Konoha’s genius and pride of the Uchiha clan, now a traitor. He’s ANBU now though, and the villagers no longer mutter and glare at him when he walks along the street. Not that he ever really cared. But still not a day goes by when Sasuke does not remember the electric glow of chakra around his hand, the chirping of a thousand birds, and the feeling of warm and wet blood as he stared into blue, blue eyes. He doesn’t understand how Naruto can forgive him, pull him back into his life, when Sasuke hasn’t, wont, forgive himself. But when the doorbell rings and Naruto’s eyes light up even as he turns to Sasuke and beams, ‘Ramen’s here!’, Sasuke finds it a little easier to forgive himself. These days, Sasuke feels like maybe everything will be okay (however rare they are).

 

Other days are not so okay. Other days Sasuke wakes up, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, his legs tangled up in the sheets. It’s often Itachi in these nightmares, Itachi’s hands covered in blood, Itachi letting his mother’s figure fall and crumple, Itachi mocking him as Sasuke chases and chases but never catches up. Sometimes he dreams of good memories, of Itachi teaching him the alphabet, of Itachi piggybacking him when he was tired, but those often end in a dark twist. Those nightmares are worse. They make him want to claw out his heart, his lungs, it’s like walls closing in around him, a weight pressing on his chest. His nightmares usually leave him awake at 3:00 AM in the morning, and he knows there is no hope of falling back asleep, so he gets up, takes a cold shower and goes for a run. Everything is dimly lit at this hour in the morning, the moonlight washing the colour from the world. Sasuke picks a trail in Konoha’s surrounding forests and runs, his breaths escaping in puffs of white fog. Running helps him take his mind off things, instead, concentrating on pacing himself and finding his footing among tangled roots and fallen logs. But no matter how fast he runs or how far he goes, he can never quite shake the cold, clammy fear of his nightmares. 

Sasuke doesn’t leave his apartment on these days. He feels like his team (Team 7) knows, his ANBU team knows, because nobody comes to find him on these days. He feels like he should be angry, because his business is not for anyone else to know, but he can’t bring himself to feel anything apart from emptiness and burning shame of leaving Itachi alive. ‘I am an Uchiha’, he would repeat, ‘a warrior’, as he sat in the dark with the blinds drawn and door locked and the acidic bitterness eating away at him inside because he hadn’t avenged his family, his clan, he couldn’t, after all these years. It had been almost ten years now. He was no warrior. He was just a coward. 

The last time Sasuke saw Itachi was after Orochimaru’s death. He had been on his way back to Konoha, Orochimaru’s head in his hands when Itachi cut across his path. Sasuke hadn’t even noticed Itachi’s approach, hadn’t sensed a chakra signature. Itachi had stood across from him in that small clearing as his heart pounded and his blood rushed and he clenched Orochimaru’s head harder in his hand. ‘Why was Itachi here?’, ‘How did I not sense him?’ and the question which was always in the back of his mind, ‘Can I kill him?’. Itachi had smiled, unreadable as ever, and asked amicably, ‘Hello Sasuke, have you been well?’, as if it wasn’t like they hadn’t met each other for almost a decade. Sasuke wasn’t sure how, but he remembers his mouth moving as his brain had formulated a response, ‘Could have been better’. Itachi had outright laughed at Sasuke’s response, and Sasuke had tensed, surprised, because Itachi never laughed, not once in all the years he’s known him (and Sasuke definitely did not have a sense of humour). Itachi made no move to attack, even as the laughter faded, instead shifting his gaze to Sasuke’s hands. There was a pause, then his voice came out softer, ‘You’ve gotten stronger’. It was said as a statement, like a fact, and Sasuke’s heart picked up pace and his sharingan swirled to life, eyes burning with chakra. His palms were clammy and his mouth was dry and his hand twitched as he itched for a kunai. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Itachi wasn’t like this. Itachi didn’t show weakness, he didn’t have mercy. So why was he standing opposite him in a small clearing with sad eyes and a heavy smile in his Akatsuki robes telling him he was stronger? Why was he acting like his brother after so long of just not? Sasuke should have pulled out chidori and went for Itachi’s heart while he was standing there in front of him, real and tangible, after Sasuke had been looking for so long over the past two years. Sasuke should have killed him. But instead he asked, ‘How are you?’. Itachi’s eyes had widened, and Sasuke had felt a brief flare of triumph, because he remembers as kids nothing every fazed Itachi, even at the young age of eleven. 

Maybe that’s how he had the heart to murder his own mother. 

There was a long silence, as Sasuke shifted his weight, feeling the soft earth under his feet and the cool morning air brush over his skin. When he was convinced Itachi wasn’t going to answer, he opened his mouth again, but Itachi’s voice jerked him to a stop. 

‘It won’t be long until we meet again’. And then he was gone. 

Some days, Sasuke’s urge to find Itachi are especially strong. The urge to hunt him down, kill him, make him pay for what he’s done. But he can’t. Not yet. Sasuke may be a coward, but he isn’t stupid. So he trains. He trains at the older, worn out training grounds because nobody goes there, nobody can find him. He practices his speed and his taijutsu because those are his weakest points. If he closes his eyes, he can almost hear Kakashi’s voice telling him, ‘Too slow’, then asking him, ‘What are you doing wrong?’ in that frustrating way of his. Sasuke grits his teeth and fights the overwhelming panic which sometimes tries to claw its way up his windpipe whenever he thinks about how he isn’t good enough. People used to call him a chronic overachiever, but he knows that isn’t the case. He isn’t good enough for Kakashi, and he definitely wasn’t good enough for Itachi. There was no other way to explain why Itachi murdered his clan and betrayed the village. So Sasuke pushes the feeling down and trains. Some days he practices katon jutsus just for the sake of being able to burn Itachi with his clans’ signature technique. Yeah, Sasuke can be sadistically ironic too, and his lips quirk up into a tired smile. 

 

Most days Sasuke just feels like he’s drowning, drowning in a thick pool of tar where there’s no way to climb back out, no way to breathe in fresh air again. Most days Sasuke feels like living is like wading through a knee-deep pool of water, no matter how hard he tries to move forward, he just can’t go fast enough. Ever since he was young, his life had revolved around Itachi Itachi Itachi; he was duty bound to avenge his clan. And a decade later, here he was, safe within Konoha’s walls while his brother still roamed free. But then there was Naruto. Most days Naruto is there by his side, Naruto with his sunshine-gold hair and his sky blue eyes and his laugh which sounds bright and clear. And Sasuke holds onto those moments, takes hold of those rare okay days and breathes, and thinks to himself, ‘I could stay and train a little longer’.


End file.
